


arrangement

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Baby Abigail Hobbs, Bottom Will Graham, Breastfeeding, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Infertility, Knotting, Lactation Kink, Loosely based on "The Handmaid's Tale", M/M, Male Lactation, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Multiple Orgasms, Nursing Kink, Omega Will Graham, Overstimulation, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post Mpreg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Separation Anxiety, Sexism, Sexual Slavery, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: It's been a while since he was able to move within his house without listening to Abigail fussing, for any number of reasons. Desperation would make her hungry enough to take the occasional bottle, but he can't fight the feeling of supreme relief he feels, hearing a quiet house, knowing that his daughter will be well-fed and taken care of by such a sweet, young omega, with evident powerful maternal instincts.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 59
Kudos: 1131





	1. Chapter 1

Technically, facilities like this are not illegal, any more than breeding pens for animals or adoption agencies are not illegal. The ones sanctioned and supplemented by the Government are some of the most immaculately kept and run organizations in the country.

It's a simple matter of solving an underpopulation problem. It's referred to by historians as the Cull, though that implies there were active measures taken to reduce the population. It was not a plague, not a direct consequence of a war through which many of the young perished before having children.

Hannibal's generation was the last not to be affected. He started hearing about it when he was in his teenage years – new omegas were being born barren, without viable wombs. Betas were almost unheard of these days. Alphas became plagued with a sickness, that completely ruined their ability to maintain stamina and the potency necessary to impregnate an omega during heat. Omegas stopped going into heat as often.

Now, there's almost a seventy percent chance that a new baby will be born infertile. That is why these centers exist, now – the omegas that are able to have children are brought here, and inseminated, either through I.V.F. or the natural way, if there happens to be a virile alpha of breeding age around. The children, if they are not viable to continue the population growth, are sold off to families and mated pairs with the desire and means to care for them. Since so many cannot have children, it's hard to keep up with the demand.

Hannibal is lucky, in a way. He's of an age where he is not considered genetically capable of siring more children, though he is far from past his prime. He's also a foreigner, not an American native, and the Nationalists who run the program prefer to have pure American blood, like that means anything anymore.

He enters the facility without much flare, but nevertheless is met by a small, smiling alpha, his eyes gleaming as he takes in Hannibal's expensive suit and the luxury car he came in. "Good afternoon," he purrs, and holds out his hand. "I'm Doctor Chilton. I run this establishment."

Flattering, that the director himself decided to greet Hannibal in person. He smiles, and shakes the man's hand. "Good afternoon," he replies.

"Are you here to purchase a pup?" Chilton asks.

Hannibal shakes his head. "No," he replies, and the other man blinks in surprise, his brow creasing in confusion. "I'm interested in purchasing one of your omegas."

Chilton blinks at him again, and shakes his head instinctively. "I'm sorry, Mister…?"

"Doctor Lecter," Hannibal corrects.

"Doctor Lecter," Chilton amends. "All of the omegas in our care are property of the state, and not available for purchase."

Hannibal sighs. He expected to hear something like that. "I have a newborn at home," he says flatly. Chilton's eyes widen. "Unfortunately my wife died shortly after childbirth. I've already had the child tested – she's not a viable breeder. But there is the case of feeding her."

"There are formulas perfectly tailored to -."

"Doctor Chilton, I understand your concern, I simply don't care to hear it," Hannibal says. "Surely there is one who has fulfilled their obligations, that you can part with for a short time. At least until it's safe to breed them again."

Chilton's eyes narrow. "So you…want to lease one?" he asks, sounding incredulous.

"If that will make you more amenable, then yes."

Chilton's eyes flash, gleaming with intrigue. He smiles, his demeanor at once melting back to that of a salesman. "I think I have one that will suit," he purrs, "if you don't mind an omega with a…somewhat spirited nature."

Hannibal smiles. "Lead the way."

His name is Will Graham. Unfortunately, he is of the generation that still bred fertile omegas, and was born when the Government just began to panic. Hannibal doubts he has known much except life in the facility, being impregnated and giving birth every year since he came of age. It's clear he has recently given birth; his scent is sweet with the natural softness of a mother.

He's quite lovely, if a little skinnier than Hannibal anticipated, especially for an omega who has just been pregnant. There's very little excess fat around his stomach and hips, he's more muscular than typical waif-like omegas these days. Of course, Hannibal has little interest in him except for his ability to lactate and feed his child.

He's allowed into Will's room, which looks more like that of a hotel, fully stocked with amenities, a small bed and a paltry attempt at a nest to soothe those instincts tucked into a corner. Will looks up as Chilton leads Hannibal into his room, his eyes flashing a pretty blue, laced with gold to turn the iris green in places. He swallows harshly. "I can't get pregnant again so soon," he snaps, glaring at Chilton. Hannibal gets the impression this is something he's had to deal with numerous times.

Chilton smiles at him. "That's not why Doctor Lecter is here," he says, gesturing to Hannibal. "He needs a nursemaid."

Will's expression smooths out in surprise. "Oh," he murmurs. He stands from where he was curled up in his nest, wincing as his sore muscles undoubtedly stretch and resettle from the tight ball he had been curled into. "How old is your baby?"

"Five weeks," Hannibal tells him.

Will's eyes soften, his gaze dips down, naturally deferential. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "Your mate…?"

"Deceased, unfortunately," Hannibal says. "Hence my need for someone like you."

Will presses his lips together, and nods.

Chilton turns to Hannibal. Will's choice isn't a concern, to a man like him. "What do you think? Will he suit?"

"I'd like to examine him," Hannibal says. Will winces, such a quick expression Hannibal would have missed it had he not been watching the omega so closely. "To make sure he'll be suitable."

"Of course," Chilton says with a wide smile. He gestures towards Will. "I'll be outside. Take your time."

The way he says it, Hannibal doesn't doubt Chilton expects him to be _very_ thorough in his examination. His stomach turns, his lips pulled down at the corners in distaste. There may be some alphas these days who would enjoy the idea of taking advantage of an omega who has no choice but to spread their legs and let whatever happens to them happen, but Hannibal has never enjoyed the idea of that. Besides, there is little point – he has no intention of mounting Will, so the state of his insides is of no concern to him beyond being healthy, with no concerning damage.

Chilton closes the door behind him, and Hannibal approaches Will. Will doesn't move, except to very slightly tilt his head, exposing more of his throat to Hannibal's gaze. He's wearing a thin t-shirt and sweatpants, much too large for him as though it was purchased for him when he was young, and he was expected to grow into it, falling short.

Hannibal lifts a hand, gently running his thumb beneath Will's jaw, feeling the engorged scent glands which swell during pregnancy and birth, in an effort to bond more deeply with both his child and the alpha that sired it. Since omegas cannot be mounted after giving birth without feeling pain, they evolved an overproduction of their sweet scent to appease their alpha during the enforced celibacy.

He leans close and breathes in, deeply, testing Will's scent. He's sweet, of course, vaguely floral, like wildflowers and blackberry extract. Sugar and a slight crispness of sweat, like limes. His scent gland feels healthy, not overly swollen or infected.

Hannibal hums, pleased, and Will shivers, his cheeks colored a delicate pink.

"Take off your shirt, if you would," Hannibal commands. Will nods, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the bed. His shoulders are muscled and defined, evolved to bear an alpha's weight while being mounted. His chest is swollen, nipples tender-looking and a dark red. Hannibal makes a curious sound; "Does Chilton inseminate you artificially?"

"Depends," Will replies. "We haven't had a viable alpha in a while." Hannibal smiles at Will's phrasing, as though he has any part or any say in the breeding stock at this facility. There is a small scar on his stomach from a C-section. Male omegas, while generally considered more fertile, have trouble giving birth the natural way, since they lack the ability to stretch like females can. Unfortunately, once a C-section is done once, attempting a natural birth after is ill-advised.

"How many children have you had?" Hannibal asks, idly testing the width of Will's shoulders, the tenderness of his chest. The additional glands here are swollen, and Will shivers under his touch, turning his face away to bare more of his neck.

"Just had my fourth," Will tells him.

Despite himself, Hannibal lets out a surprised sound. He frowns. "Four?"

Will lifts his shoulders in a shrug, winces at the pull on his tender chest. He bites his lower lip, lifting his hands in an aborted gesture, before he can rub at his sore chest. "Not all of them made it," he says flatly, purposely devoid of emotion.

Hannibal hums. "I'm sorry."

"Nature of the beast," Will replies with another shrug. Whether he is truly upset over the loss of his additional children – or any of them, for Hannibal doubts he was allowed to even hold them before they were taken away – he doesn't show it.

Hannibal purses his lips, and drops his gaze from Will's face. He gently cups Will's swollen chest, and brushes his thumb over one of his red, puffy nipples. Will hisses, mouth twisting as his sensitive flesh is touched. Almost immediately, a single bead of milk forms against Hannibal's thumb.

Hannibal smiles. "You're certainly eager to produce."

Will swallows, and doesn't answer.

Hannibal spreads his fingers out, gently kneading at Will's swollen muscle, pleased when another heavy dribble of milk is produced. It coats his fingers, and smells unbearably sweet. Absently, he lifts his fingers to his nose, taking a deep inhale, tasting it with his tongue. It holds much of Will's scent, and the stereotypical sweetness of cantaloupe juice.

He drops his hands, and turns to retrieve Will's shirt, handing it to him. Will shrugs it on, one side immediately darkening as it absorbs the milk. If he's surprised that Hannibal did nothing more than check his milk production, he doesn't show it, but the tension in his shoulders has softened somewhat, and this time, when Hannibal looks at him, he meets Hannibal's eyes, and manages a small smile.

"Well?"

"I think you'll suit just fine," Hannibal replies. "Of course, assuming you consent to coming to my home and nursing my child for me."

Will blinks at him, and frowns. "If I consent?" he parrots.

"Of course. I expect there will be some emotional difficulties, both because you will not be nursing your own child, and because you will likely form some sort of natural bond with mine. Which will end, when she is weaned off your milk. I wouldn't expect you to enter into an arrangement like that against your will."

Will's frown deepens, and he huffs a sheepish, unsteady little laugh. He rubs his hand over his neck, coating it with his scent, and digs his nails into the nape of his neck, scratching roughly at his hairline. "I -. You're a different one, Doctor Lecter," he says. His smile is wider now, much more relaxed. It softens his entire face and makes him look even younger than Hannibal is sure he is.

"I try to be as weird and interesting as possible, at all times," Hannibal replies with a smile. Will's laugh is soothing, pleasant to his ear. "Do you consent?"

"Yeah, of course I do," Will murmurs, expression growing earnest. He nods. "I'll go with you."

Hannibal smiles. "Excellent. Go ahead and pack your things and I'll settle with your doctor. I'll see you outside."

Will nods again, and Hannibal leaves the room to find Chilton hovering outside like an eavesdropper. He seems surprised that Hannibal left so quickly, and there is no obvious evidence of sexual misconduct. Hannibal fixes him with a raised brow. "Shall we?"

"You're taking him?" Chilton asks.

"Yes. I think he will do nicely."

Chilton nods. "Alright. Come with me and we'll get the paperwork signed, and you can be on your way."

Hannibal leads Will to his car, an hour later and his bank account fifty thousand dollars lighter. For a lease agreement, it seems rather steep, but there is hardly any monetary limit he could put on his daughter's wellbeing, and he may have need of Will for several months, before the law compels him to return to the facility to be impregnated again.

Will whistles lowly at the sight of the Bentley. "So you're, like, Rockefeller rich," he says.

Hannibal smiles, opening the trunk for Will to put his small bag inside it. "I have enough money and means to live quite comfortably, yes," he replies. "Is that important to you?"

"I don't have the luxury of being a gold-digger," Will replies with a laugh. His entire attitude is much lighter, changing from the moment Hannibal signed the contract and they stepped out of the premises. "But it's not _un_ attractive."

"Your circumstances are not exactly perfect," Hannibal concedes, as they get in the car. Will's eyes widen, and he pets over the soft leather seats, shivers and curls up as Hannibal turns on the seat warmers, since it's quite cold outside despite the season. "I don't suppose you've had much opportunity for socialization."

Will laughs, and rolls his eyes. "A common misconception," he says. Hannibal tilts his head. "Once I get pregnant, I'm allowed to do pretty much whatever I want, as long as I don't risk the baby's or my health. You saw my room – it's quite comfortable, as far as cages go."

"But it's still a cage."

Will hums, looking out the window as Hannibal drives away from the facility. He lives just under an hour away from the site, and there are closer ones, but this one has the best reputation by far. He couldn't possibly purchase an omega that had health concerns or lived in subpar conditions, lest they accidentally harm his child.

"Thankfully, since you are not pregnant, I have no need to insist you isolate yourself to my home," Hannibal tells him. "You will have your own room, which is next to my daughter's. You may nest there, if you'd like, and take her out during the day. My only stipulation is that you take over her primary care – feeding her, bathing and changing her, and so on."

Will nods, his eyes shining with some unnamable emotion. "Who's taking care of her now?"

"I have a friend and colleague of mine watching her," Hannibal says.

Will nods. "What's her name?"

"Abigail."

"'Father's Joy'," Will breathes.

Hannibal blinks at him, surprised. "Yes," he replies quietly.

Will smiles at him. "There's not much to do in that place but read," he says, answering the unspoken question.

"What kinds of things do you like to read?"

"All sorts," Will tells him, sitting back. "Doctor Chilton is one of those pseudo-intellectual types. I'm pretty sure I visited the library way more often than he did, but he has a lot of fancy old books. The old poets, Shakespeare, medical journals. Fancy Bibles." He makes a vague, dismissive gesture. "I've read everything in there at least twice."

"I have a library as well," Hannibal says. "You are more than welcome to make use of it."

Will smiles brightly, and lets out a happy little purr. Hannibal smiles at the sound of it, warm despite himself. His wife was an omega, but her pregnancy was difficult, and she was in almost constant pain up to the point Abigail was born. He's surprised either of them made it at all, truth be told, and had made peace with her passing long before the day actually came.

He is not one to mourn inevitable losses. Abigail survived, and she is healthy, and that's more than what he could have asked for.

Hannibal drives Will to his home, parking and getting out of the car. He retrieves Will's bag and hands it to him, and leads the way inside. Will's eyes are wide, staring up at the impressive structure, and he lets out another soft sound of awe as Hannibal opens the door.

Immediately, the sound of a crying baby cuts through the silence of the outside. Will drops his bag, a soft whine gathering in his throat. Hannibal follows the sound to the study, to find Alana shushing Abigail. She looks up when Hannibal enters, her smile relieved and strained. "She's being awful fussy today," she says in apology.

Will whines again, sharp and high. He is practically vibrating with the desire to go and take Abigail, his eyes flaring with a bright golden hue. Hannibal smiles, and takes Abigail from Alana, handing her over. Will cradles her like she is the most precious thing in the world.

"Her room is upstairs, third door on the left," he says, and gently cradles the small of Will's back. "You may go."

Will nods, hurrying from the room, his eyes only on the baby. Hannibal sheds his coat as Alana stands. She's a fellow alpha, young enough to have been stricken with the plight cursing humanity these days, infertile and unable to bear young or lactate, otherwise Hannibal would have asked her.

"So you found one?" Alana asks him. Hannibal nods, resisting the urge to point out the obvious evidence that he did. "That's good. Abigail won't take formula, I was so worried."

Hannibal nods. Alpha children are much more inclined to nurse at their mother's breast than to take anything fake. Their delicate noses and refined sense of taste do not allow them to accept anything unnatural. "Would you like a drink?" he offers.

"Please," she says roughly. He smiles at her, and takes her by the shoulders, leading her into the kitchen. The bottles of brew he makes are always kept chilled, ready to serve. He pours her a tall glass, huffing in amusement as she takes a long drink.

She gasps when she's done, giving him a sheepish look. "Thank you."

"I know it's been difficult," Hannibal says. "I appreciate everything you've done since…." He lets himself trail off, lets his voice grow heavy with a loss he doesn't truly feel. Alana is the kind of person who finds pleasure in soothing grief, and Hannibal likes her company well enough, so it's a small price to pay to make her feel better.

Alana's eyes soften, predictably, and she nods. Upstairs, Abigail's cries have fallen silent, and she lets out a sigh of relief. "That's a good sign."

"Yes," Hannibal says. "I need to get Will settled in and check on them."

"I'll leave," Alana says with a smile. Hannibal has always appreciated her willingness to leave him be, to avoid overstaying her welcome. She finishes her drink and Hannibal walks her to the door, holding her coat for her as she worms her arms into the sleeves and shrugs it into place. She turns and gives Hannibal a tender smile. "Let me know if you need any more help," she says kindly.

Hannibal nods, and sees her out. He takes Will's bag and heads upstairs. Will's designated room is a room before Abigail's, so he opens it and sets the bag inside for Will to find later. Abigail's door is propped slightly ajar, and he approaches, knocking gently before pushing it open.

Will looks up, and smiles at him. He's sitting in the dark blue armchair in the corner, and has pulled his shirt over Abigail's head and shoulders, and Hannibal can hear the loud, wet suckling as Will feeds her. His scent is so thick with relief and joy, and he holds her like she's so breakable and precious.

"She was hungry," he says, in a very soft, low voice, so he doesn't upset her. Hannibal smiles, approaching him. Will tilts his head up, smiles dreamily, eyes hazy and glowing gold. "She latched on right away."

"Good," Hannibal says, gently petting a stray curl from Will's face. He believes in giving credit where it's due, and a happy omega is one that will much more readily prepare milk, and rise for nighttime feedings, and be overall more pleasant company. "I've put your things in your room. There is a linen closet, as well, with additional blankets and sheets, whatever you'd like to use for a nest."

Will blinks at him. "A nest?" he echoes.

"If you'd like to build one, you're more than welcome to," Hannibal tells him with a smile. He mentioned as much in the car, but doesn't fault Will for not believing him. "You'll be here for a while, after all, given this resounding success."

Will flushes, looking down. He gently peels his shirt back from Abigail's face, revealing her thoroughly latched to his chest, happily sucking away. Hannibal isn't blind – it wasn't a priority of his, but Will and his late wife share certain aesthetic similarities. Abigail inherited her mother's bright blue eyes, the beginnings of dark fuzz on her head. Though it wasn't a conscious choice, he knows Will is going to bond harder with the child, purely because Will's instincts will convince him that this child must be his, since they look so much alike.

Will stands, careful not to dislodge Abigail. There's no bed in this room, just her crib, which he goes to, taking one of the soft blankets and wrapping his arms in them so that he can hold her within it, and swaddle her when she's done eating.

"I've never actually gotten to do this before," he says, soft with awe. "It's…not what I expected."

"Oh?" Hannibal murmurs.

"I expected it to be more like a water bottle," Will says, and laughs at himself. "Just a slow trickle she'd lap up. But she's actually pulling it out of me. It's weird."

"Good weird?"

"…Yes. _Wonderful_ weird," Will breathes, closing his eyes. "Relief."

Hannibal nods. "I can purchase a pump for you, as well, in case she can't keep up with you."

Will smiles at his feet. "I'd appreciate that."

"Excellent. Unfortunately, I can't stay to give you a proper tour of the house, but I trust you'll be able to find your way around. There is plenty of food in the fridge, and everything you will need to care for Abigail is in this room, or in the closet with the linens."

Will nods, and wets his lips. "Thank you, Doctor Lecter," he murmurs.

"I'll return in the evening. My cell phone number is on the fridge, in case you think of anything else you need while I'm out."

Will nods again, his eyes locked on Abigail. He smiles, and brushes his thumb over her chubby cheek. "Okay," he replies, hazy, like he's barely listening. Hannibal smiles to himself, and leaves him to it. He has a patient he needs to meet, and it's just the one, since he knew he would be indisposed for the rest of the day.

It's been a while since he was able to move within his house without listening to Abigail fussing, for any number of reasons. Desperation would make her hungry enough to take the occasional bottle, but he can't fight the feeling of supreme relief he feels, hearing a quiet house, knowing that his daughter will be well-fed and taken care of by such a sweet, young omega, with evident powerful maternal instincts.

Yes, he thinks to himself, smiling as he takes his coat in hand and leaves the house again. This arrangement promises to work out rather nicely.


	2. Chapter 2

Will settles in wonderfully, as though he has been Abigail's nursemaid for months. Soon, the scent of happy omega and well-fed child fills the house, and Hannibal cannot help but admit that it settles him, whenever he comes home.

His wife had had a lovely scent, as well. She was all vanilla and cinnamon, like a rich dessert. Will's, in contrast, is more like a crisp drink on a hot summer day. Whenever Hannibal breathes it in, he feels refreshed.

Since Abigail had been such a fussy eater, she drinks readily from Will, milking him dry. She sleeps almost through the night, now. Hannibal has a baby monitor, and purchased an additional one for Will's room. It is a rare occasion when Abigail's midnight fussing wakes him at all, and when it does, it's normally only for a moment before he hears Will enter her room, shushing her and changing her, humming soft songs to her while he nurses her back to sleep.

If Will were purely Abigail's nursemaid and Hannibal's ward, Hannibal would be content, but that is not the case. Will is also _delightful_ on his own. He's intelligent, and sharp-eyed, with a tongue made of whiplashes and silver. Polite, to be sure, and deferential to Hannibal as all omegas are to alphas, but Hannibal sees, occasionally, a brief flare of fire in the other man's eyes. A sharp word held on the tip of his tongue. An edge of coy glee in his smile, whenever Hannibal says something he finds amusing.

He's lovely, anyone could see that. He dotes on Abigail, and uses the pump Hannibal bought him when she finally fills her hollow leg and Will, his body now used to and expecting to feed a child, continues to produce milk.

Hannibal feeds him, and cares for him. When Will makes a comment about building his nest, Hannibal takes him shopping and purchases every soft blanket Will touches. Will's eyes, dark and seeing so much, watch him when he does it. He doesn't comment, but Hannibal can see the wheels turning in his head.

It's not unreasonable, he thinks. Hannibal has no illusions that this life must be much more attractive to Will than life in the facility. He has a child to care for, an alpha capable of giving him more children, that is wealthy and feeds him well and caters to his every need. They are compatible on an intellectual level, and Will smells _very_ good.

Alana visits less often, but when she does, Will charms her easily. He must know that as Hannibal's friend, he must be kind to her, and earn her favor. Hannibal has often heard them laughing together when he cooks a meal, and when Alana and he have a moment alone, Alana gushes about him like a teenager with a crush.

"You chose well, Hannibal," she says with a wide smile, as she helps him prepare the meal. Will is upstairs, settling Abigail down for her nap. The baby monitor Hannibal uses is on the counter, though their end of the connection is muted, so Will cannot hear them. "He's lovely, and very charming."

"He likes you, too," Hannibal says, smiling when she blushes.

She sighs. "It makes me sad to think of him leaving, and going back to the facility." Hannibal hides his smile – she is not as delicate or subtle as she thinks she is. "Do you think it would be too difficult to convince him to stay?"

"I'm afraid it's not a matter of convincing him, my dear," Hannibal replies. "Will is here under a lease agreement. When his time is finished, I must return him."

She looks at him, eyes dark and earnest. "He's not a…piece of furniture, or a horse," she says fiercely. "He's a human being. Forgive me for saying so, but this whole arrangement, this whole program, is abhorrent to me."

Hannibal's brows rise.

"I know you aren't cruel to him, but what you're doing _is_ cruel," she insists. "Will loves Abigail. I can see it whenever he looks at her. Sending him away once she's weaned is…." She pauses, and sucks in a breath, choosing her words carefully; "It's not something I considered you capable of."

"Will knew the emotional risk," Hannibal replies quietly, chided despite himself. He is, by his very nature, not able to truly empathize with an omega mindset. Alana, too, is an alpha, but she is more emotional than he is. "I can't keep him, Alana, no matter how much any of us want him here."

Her eyes flash. "So you _do_ want him here," she presses.

He sighs to himself, and shakes his head. "What I want doesn't factor in," he replies. "Will is not mine to keep, even if he consented to it as well."

"So that's it?" Alana demands. "You send him away and that's that? He's fertile, Hannibal, and you're capable of siring children. If it came down to it, the Government would sanction you keeping him, even if he never had another child."

"Alana," Hannibal says, warning.

"Maybe I'll buy him," Alana snaps, fire in her eyes. "And we can adopt."

" _Alana_."

Her smile is small, but victorious. "You can pretend all you want, Hannibal, but it doesn't take a genius _or_ an alpha to see how pissed off you are at that idea."

Hannibal sighs. Before he can answer, Will's scent greets him, and he looks up to see the omega enter the room. His eyes are a beautiful, brilliant gold, expression lax as it always is after feeding Hannibal's daughter. He slides the baby monitor into his pocket, and pauses at the threshold of the kitchen.

His nostrils flare, and he frowns. "Am I interrupting?" he asks, shifting his weight nervously.

Hannibal smiles. "Of course not, Will. Please, come in."

Will hesitates, but eventually enters, bowing his head. He hovers on the other side of the kitchen island, fingers drumming together in an anxious fidget. "Hannibal," he says quietly. "If you have a second, I need to speak with you."

His eyes move to Alana, briefly.

Hannibal nods, setting his knife down. "I trust you can finish up here?" Hannibal asks. "The oven is already preheated, you can set the vegetables in the pan and put on a timer for forty minutes."

"Of course," Alana says with a winning smile. Hannibal smiles back, and washes his hands. Will leads the way out of the room, into the dining room, and then the study, putting as much physical distance between them and Alana as possible so they're out of earshot.

He sits on one of the couches, his elbows on his thighs, fingers clasped tightly between them. His shoulders roll up, tense, his eyes fixed and focused on the floor between his feet. Hannibal tilts his head, approaching him, and puts a gentle hand in his hair. He has done this a few times, mostly as a reward when Will successfully feeds his daughter – omegas are desperately touch-starved creatures, Will even worse considering his lifestyle, and it's an easy way to settle and soothe them.

Plus, Hannibal can admit, he quite enjoys it too. He likes how Will's scent thickens and sweetens under his hands. He likes the feeling of Will's soft hair sliding between his fingers like silk. When Will lets out a sweet, shuddering little breath.

"What's the matter, Will?" Hannibal askes, for despite his placative touch, Will is still tense and smells like he's in distress.

Will tilts his head towards him, eyes dark. Hannibal's hand naturally fingers the curve of his skull, the strong muscles in the nape of his neck. "Chilton's going to come check on me soon," he says. Hannibal's head tilts. "I'm going to go into heat. Been regular my whole life. So he'll be coming to take me back."

Hannibal says nothing, to that, still absently petting Will's hair.

"I can pump as much as I can, so Abigail can eat and -. And maybe when I'm pregnant again I can come back and keep nursing until she's weaned. I just -. I didn't want you to be taken by surprise," Will adds, all in a rush. His voice is quiet, hiding all emotion.

Hannibal is not certain what emotions spur each realization, but they come in quick succession. The first, the loudest, is that he doesn't want Will to leave. He's not sure if it's possessiveness, or irritation for a contract cut short, or if it's simply an awareness of his own nature, but he finds the idea of returning Will to the facility so another alpha can impregnate him deeply uncomfortable. It feels, strangely, as though _Hannibal_ is the one leasing him out, and he doesn't appreciate that feeling in the slightest.

The second realization, that breaks on the heels of the first, is that he doesn't think Will wants to leave either. The way he is, now, resting his cheek against Hannibal's thigh, lax as Hannibal pets him. The fact that he wanted to warn Hannibal instead of simply letting himself be taken. The mention of his heat – regular, perhaps, but if Will is still nursing he shouldn't be trying to get pregnant again. His biology cannot handle so much stress at once.

Which means he is going into heat because of the proximity of a virile alpha. One that he desires, that has fed and housed him and proven himself a good father.

Hannibal smiles.

"Do you want to go back, Will?" he asks.

Will stiffens, clearly surprised by the question. Hannibal cups his jaw and makes him lift his eyes. This is important, after all – he will not act without Will's consent. Will frowns, and wets his lips. "It doesn't matter what I want," he replies, shaking his head.

Hannibal's grip tightens. "Not what I asked."

Will flinches, as Hannibal's fingers white out his skin from the pressure. He whines – such a sweet, soft sound, instinctively Hannibal loosens his grip. Will rears back, moving away from him, on his feet and pacing to the fireplace.

"I can't stay," he says harshly. He watches Hannibal from the corner of his eye, still an omega, still very much aware of how easily Hannibal could take advantage of him. "If I stay, it'll…obligate you. And I don't want to do that."

Hannibal hums, looking down at his hand, which still holds lingering remnants of Will's warmth. "Because it would mean mating with you, or at least mounting you, and putting another child in you."

"I'm under no illusions about what this was," Will breathes. "So it doesn't matter how I feel."

"And if I don't know how you feel, how can I make an informed decision?" Hannibal presses. Will turns a fraction further, forehead creased, lips turned down. Hannibal eyes him, and resists the urge to crowd him. He doesn't need Will to feel pressured; it's too easy to coax Will into giving an answer he thinks Hannibal might want.

Will swallows, shoulders dropping. In this moment of stillness, with no distracting scents of food or Alana or Abigail, Hannibal can smell what Will meant – he had assumed it was simply because he was keeping Will happy and well cared for, but no. No, that is definitely a heat scent he's picking up. Faint, but there; endorphins to compensate for his cervix blooming open, a fevered sweetness that will prompt his slick glands to go into overdrive, and warm his core to allow the highest chance of insemination.

"I'm attracted to you," Will confesses, a moment later. "In more ways than just physical. It's novel." His lips twitch in a bitter smile. "At first I didn't realize that's what it was. I've never felt it before. Never even actually touched a real alpha for years, even in heat. But I…."

Hannibal takes a step towards him. Will sucks in a breath, eyes gleaming that lovely, molten gold.

"I think about you coming for me, in the night," he rasps. Hannibal's breath catches, as he closes the final distance. Will radiates heat like a furnace, every inch of him warm, enticing. He is bred, specifically, for the luring and capture of alphas. Is Hannibal already caught, he wonders, or is this the first tug of a hook in his mouth? "I think about nursing both of our children. Of calling Abigail my own."

"These are good dreams," Hannibal rumbles, and Will shivers visibly, biting down hard on his lower lip. The scent of Will's arousal is new to Hannibal, thick and sweet as cream, a delicious aftertaste to his crisp, fruit-like sweetness.

"Best dreams I've ever had," Will replies, breathless.

Hannibal's fingers curl, and he can't resist the urge to touch Will's hip. Lightly, so lightly, but Will's knees buckle and he catches himself on the mantle, shivering again. Hannibal leans against him, cheek brushing Will's, and Will purrs helplessly, loudly, the sound vibrating against Hannibal's chest.

"I don't want it if you don't," Will says. Hannibal smiles at the lie, nuzzling Will's racing pulse. "But if you do, _God,_ Hannibal, I'd be so good for you. I swear I will."

Hannibal knows that. Will has been nothing but perfect for him, sweet and pleasant, a dutiful mother for Abigail, a dynamic and engaging companion during their dinners and conversations. His intelligence and wit, his presence in Hannibal's home, has called to him daily. Made him reluctant to leave in the mornings.

"When will Chilton come?" he whispers.

Will laughs shakily. "Two days, maybe less."

Hannibal hums. "Then I had best put a baby in you as soon as possible."

Will groans weakly, panting, arching back against Hannibal in a desperate grind. His knuckles go white on the mantle and he whimpers when Hannibal kisses his warm neck. Hannibal's hand on his hip steadies him, tightens, holding him upright as Will gasps. Hannibal smiles, pleased as ever by how responsive Will is.

If he hasn't been inseminated by a flesh and blood alpha in years, then he'll be virgin-new, tight, almost untouched. Hannibal's mouth waters, and it's not because the scent of the roast has reached them, now.

"Can you make it through dinner?" he murmurs, nuzzling the words to Will's red ear.

"Yes," Will breathes, nodding once. The brush of his soft hair against Hannibal's cheek is soothing. Hannibal's wife did the same thing. She knew Hannibal liked her hair, and she was shorter than Will, and would often put her face in his neck so that he could scent her hair and pet it when she was in his arms.

"I feel I should tell you, Will, so that you enter into this fully understanding." He turns Will, and Will gazes up at him, beautiful in the low light, panting and flushed and eyes shining. "I am not…." He pauses, searching for the right words. "I suppose I must confess I am much like the stereotype. If you want my child, you must take my teeth as well."

Will's eyes darken, overtaken by pupil.

"And if that is the case, you will take me whenever I please," Hannibal adds. "You will be mine."

"In a cage?" Will asks, breathless.

"More a paddock," Hannibal replies, with a small smile. "I don't expect you to be chained to my home. But when I am here, so shall you be, for whatever I desire of you."

Will tilts his head, considering that. Another stirring of that sharp intelligence moves behind his eyes, and he smiles. "You make that sound like a burden," he says softly. "I don't think you understand how…happy it makes me, to be here. To belong to you, even indirectly."

Hannibal hums, and Will lifts a hand, cupping his cheek.

"I want you to come for me in the middle of the night," he breathes, lashes low. "I want your knot, and your teeth, and your…love, if you can give it to me."

"I daresay I already have," Hannibal confesses, and feels the truth of it when he does. "Your presence here makes me happy, as well."

Will smiles brightly, his thumb gentle on Hannibal's cheekbone. "Then it seems we have a new arrangement, Doctor Lecter," he purrs. He's so close, close enough to devour whole. Hannibal wants to, with a fervor he can never remember experiencing before. Not with his wife, not with any other omegas he's courted in his lifetime.

"Kiss me, you beautiful thing," Hannibal growls, hand tightening on Will's hip. "And tonight, I will make you a mother again."

Will shivers, whining weakly, and obeys.

Will ends up tending to Abigail right before dinner is ready, as she wakes up and fusses for another meal, or to have her diaper changed. Hannibal keeps his monitor on the table so that he can be aware of any issues, smiling to himself as he listens to Will hushing and humming a song to her as he changes her and eases her back to sleep.

Alana's nostrils flare, a subtle flicker of red in her eyes. She arches a brow and fixes Hannibal with a knowing look. "Dare I ask?" she teases.

Hannibal smiles at her. "Apparently my attachment to Will is not as one-sided as I believed," he replies. "And, when he made me aware of the prospect of his delivery back to the facility, I couldn't deny that I had a negative reaction." He pauses, and adds; "I want him to remain here, and so does he."

"I'm happy for you, Hannibal," Alana says, her eyes gentle and kind. "I like Will a lot, and I think you could give him a much better life than a nameless breeder. And I think it'll be good for you, and for Abigail, to have him in your lives."

"I agree," Hannibal replies, nodding.

Will comes down a few minutes later, smiling brightly. He takes his seat at Hannibal's side and eagerly tucks into the offered food. Hannibal knows he is both needing to compensate for breastfeeding, and pack on calories for his upcoming heat. He's been doing it a lot, Hannibal realizes, practically eating Hannibal out of house and home. He feels foolish for not seeing the signs before.

Alana must be able to smell it, too, or at least Hannibal's reaction to Will's heat scent, but she doesn't comment on it. This is, after all, Hannibal's house, and Will's as well, and it would be rude to disparage someone inside their own home.

They eat, sharing easy conversation and companionable gossip. Will has always eagerly encouraged Alana's stories and secrets from her coworkers – omegas are social creatures, and Will has not had the chance to have something as natural as a friend. Hannibal is glad that Alana likes him so much; she has been a steadfast friend to him, and now, will be one for Will.

He will grow Will's social circle – slowly, at first. After all, Will is nursing and will be pregnant soon, so he shouldn't strain himself until Abigail is weaned at the very least. At a minimum, that will be another four months. Long enough for Will to potentially swell with their second child, and wean Abigail off so that Will can devote all of his strength to nursing her sibling.

The thoughts make Hannibal feel warm, restless. He can't remember the last time he was so aware of the distance between him and another person. He suddenly wishes Alana wasn't here, so that Hannibal can make good on his promise and mount his omega as the desire strikes. He pictures Will, spread out on the table, breath misting on the dark wood, clawing marks into the lacquer. Of Will gaining bruises on his hips from the edge of the table and so weak with pleasure he can't even stand.

His lips are tender with the echo of Will's kiss. For all his relative inexperience, it was perfect. Chaste, at first, then a sweet opening for Hannibal's tongue. His lower lip, caught on teeth, as Will arched against him and whined. Lips soft as sin, responsive as a virgin, made only of raw nerve endings for Hannibal to touch as he pleased.

Will's eyes meet his, a dark blush on his face, and he swallows loudly. The meal is done – Alana's and Will's fully consumed, Hannibal so lost in his thoughts he only ate half.

No matter. He's hungry for something else, now.

Will stands. "I'm gonna go check on her," he says, and nods to both of them before he leaves the room. Alana's eyes are dark, and knowing.

"I'll leave," she says.

Again, Hannibal is thankful that she knows when not to overstay her welcome. He doesn't bother trying to make an excuse for her to stay. They stand, and he walks her to the door, helping her into her coat. She turns and smiles at him, and gives him a nod.

"Treat him well, Hannibal," she says, as though Hannibal has any intention otherwise.

"I'll call you soon," he promises. "When I'm not…indisposed."

She laughs, and leaves. While every inch of Hannibal burns to lock the door and rush upstairs, there is still dinner and cleanup to do, and he doesn't want to be distracted. He clears the plates, the wine, the waters. He puts the leftovers away in easily microwaved portions so that he and Will can eat when motor function fails them.

Then, he gets a cooler out. He puts cold packs in the bottom, and then bottles of water on top, as well as some fresh fruit that will make for easy snacking. Will's heat won't come for another couple of days, but Hannibal did not lie when he told Will; he is relentless, and thoroughly intends to impregnate Will tonight. That will mean a lot of energy for both of them, and the less time they waste, the better.

He takes Abigail's monitor, and the cooler, and heads up to his bedroom. He sets both down inside, and prowls the hallway towards Abigail's room. The door is cocked, the room dark. He checks inside – Will is not there.

Instead, he's in his nest room. Hannibal's purchases have all been put to use. Will's nest is large enough to take up half of the floor space entirely, blankets and clothes scattered all around. It's soaked with Will's scent, the only room in the house Hannibal hasn't entered and marked as his as well.

Will is there, and turns, holding the pump in his hands. "She wasn't hungry," he says apologetically, when Hannibal tilts his head.

Hannibal nods, and enters the room, closing the door behind him. Will shivers as he approaches. "Are you sore?" he asks.

"Yeah."

Hannibal acknowledges that with a hum, approaching Will as he did, so many weeks ago, back in the facility. Only this time Will doesn't watch him with wariness. His shoulders are low, trusting, his eyelids heavy. When he bares his throat, it's not a subtle tilt of submission, but a frantic plea. He shivers when Hannibal nuzzles his neck, breathing him in, and takes the pump from Will's hands.

"Take off your shirt," he whispers.

Will obeys, trembling. The scent of his arousal, his slick, is potent, filling Hannibal's lungs as Will sheds his shirt and lets it drop on the nest. Hannibal takes a moment to peel his jacket off. "If you'd like," he says, handing it to Will.

Will smiles at him. "You won't miss it?"

"I can replace my clothes, Will," Hannibal replies lightly watching as Will turns and carefully lays Hannibal's jacket over the edge of the nest. The sight of his back, bare, the dip in his spine and the little divots right at the base, beg to be touched. Hannibal cannot resist it. He steps up behind Will and holds him by the hips, gently coaxing Will to lean back against him. He's radiating heat, and Hannibal watches ravenously as the muscles in his back flex, as though preening under his gaze.

"You are…so beautiful," he rasps, sliding a hand up Will's spine. Will moans weakly, bracing himself on the edge of his nest. When Hannibal rubs his hand down Will's flank, across his swollen chest, and coaxes a fresh bead of milk free, Will collapses completely.

Hannibal follows him, prowling over Will as Will climbs into his nest sluggishly, the pump forgotten on the floor. He pinches Will's nipple and Will whimpers into his fist, gasping and rutting feverishly against Hannibal's body.

"Please," he moans, as Hannibal covers him, pinning him down. Their cheeks brush, Will's hair damp with sweat as Hannibal buries his nose in Will's hair and breathes him in. He smells like passion incarnate, every temptation Hannibal has ever known. He doesn't know how he will cope when Will is truly in heat; already Will's scent drives him mad.

He wants to taste every inch of Will, drink down everything his body produces; his blood, his slick, his milk. He growls into Will's ear and Will whimpers, lowering his chest into Hannibal's hands, hips raised, desperate and ready.

Hannibal growls, and pushes himself upright so he can shed the rest of his clothes. "Turn over," he commands, and Will obeys, eyes shining. "Touch yourself."

Will bites his lower lip, one hand running down his stomach to wrap around his cock, the other rubbing at his sore chest. He pushes his sweatpants down and kicks them off, and milk shines on his chest as much as there is slick on his thighs. He spreads his legs, showing Hannibal everything – shameless, of course, he has no need to feel shy.

His rim is pink, flushed like an omega that has never taken a knot, leaking as he rubs his fingers over it, and then back up his cock as he continues to milk himself. Hannibal's nostrils flare at the scents – all of them, so sweet, his mouth waters. He peels off the rest of his clothes, enjoying how Will openly admires him. His lips part in a soundless gasp as Hannibal reveals his cock, and he arches, spreading himself wider.

Hannibal steps out of his clothes, and covers Will again. He knots his fingers in Will's damp hair and tilts his head back as Will gasps, grabbing Hannibal's shoulders with both hands and rutting against him, helplessly. Omegas scent mark, that is no secret, and can become violently possessive of their alpha. It pleases Hannibal to know that they will stink of each other, by the end. That Will's body will know him, claim him in turn.

Hannibal did not let his wife bite him, when they were mated. But Will…. He might not be able to resist.

He kisses Will deeply, one hand flattening over his chest, thumbing at his sore nipples, which are puffy and sensitive after feeding his child so dutifully. Will lets out the most ragged, needy sound Hannibal has ever heard, another bead of milk leaking from him.

Hannibal leans down, and sucks it into his mouth, closing his eyes at the taste.

"Oh, God," Will breathes, holding him like a nursing child, panting heavily. "Oh God, that feels so -. So fucking amazing. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Hannibal has no intention of stopping. Will's milk floods his mouth, delicious and sweet, and he drinks it down eagerly. He knows Will can make more by the time Abigail is hungry again, and there are several bottles in the fridge to use in the meantime. Hannibal is owed this indulgence.

After all, Will is his. His, to use and satisfy.

Hannibal continues to suckle, his other hand teasing Will's neglected breast as he does, until his fingers are wet and Will's skin shines. He can smell tears, sobs of overstimulation wrenched from Will's chest as he claws at Hannibal's hair, gives and gives and -.

 _Gives_. His body locks up, thighs tight around Hannibal's waist, and there is new wetness between them, now, as Will comes with a hoarse cry and coats Hannibal's chest and Will's belly.

Hannibal snarls, releasing Will with a smacking sound and moving down further. He grips Will's hips and licks the mess of come from his stomach and Will moans, another deep and ragged sound, his cock twitching when Hannibal licks over that, too. Every inch of him is divine. He's been so well-fed at Hannibal's table.

His nails tighten in Will's sweaty skin, and he looks up to find Will staring at him, eyes black and gold, lips parted around his heavy breaths. He's irresistible, a siren song. Hannibal lunges for him and kisses him, forcing Will's legs apart.

"Yes, _yes_ ," Will gasps, clawing at his back. "Inside me. _Please_ , Hannibal."

Hannibal kisses him again, as Will's legs wrap around him, hips tilted up to aid penetration. Hannibal presses himself flat over Will, this gorgeous omega, this _beautiful_ mother, and pushes inside him. Will whimpers, breaking the kiss for a desperate gasp of air, wincing at the sudden stretch.

Hannibal ignores it – Will can take it, he knows he can. He nuzzles Will's throat, purring loudly in his ear, as Will holds his shoulders and digs in with his heels, urging Hannibal on. It feels like it's been a lifetime since Hannibal was inside someone, and Will's muscles are slick and tight, fever-warm, clenching with sensation.

He pets Will's hair and wraps his arm beneath Will's shoulder, fingers around his nape, and pulls back with a snarl, fucking in harder. Will clenches his jaw to quiet his moans, ragged and high as Hannibal builds up a rhythm, selfishly claiming the sweet little lamb that wandered so eagerly into his den.

The friction of his chest against Will's causes him to make more milk, his cock dribbling pathetically from the pressure of Hannibal's stomach against it. Will clings to him, with his arms and his thighs and his tight body, recovering quickly as Hannibal forces him open and uses him for his own.

"I'm gonna come again," Will chokes. Hannibal snarls with pleasure at that, tightening his grip on Will's nape as he kisses Will, relishing how Will's muscles flutter and clamp down around his cock, every inch of his body desperate for relief. Hannibal can give him that – an omega is most happy when knotted, caught beneath a powerful alpha and heavy with seed. Will's face goes lax, eyes closing as Hannibal fucks him through his second orgasm, another heavy load of come slicking their bellies together.

Hannibal growls against Will's throat. His teeth ache with the need to bury themselves in that tender offering. He pushes at the back of Will's thigh, folding him further, ensuring that he's fucking as deep as possible to ensure Will gets pregnant.

Will stares up at him, red-cheeked, black-eyed, panting. Hannibal rests their foreheads together as Will pets tenderly through his hair. "One more," Hannibal commands. Will shivers, biting his lower lip. "One more, darling, and I'll give you what you want."

Will sucks in a breath, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking slowly. Hannibal does not slow, doesn't gentle himself at all. Will is his, now, and while he is careful with his possessions, he uses them for their intended purpose.

They collide together slick and loud. Will is so wet that it gushes around Hannibal's cock, staining their skin, his chest sore and red and leaking. Hannibal is glad he brought water upstairs – Will is going to need it.

Will cups his face, biting his lower lip as he tightens his hand on his cock, quickening the pace. Hannibal can feel it; the promising clench of Will's muscles, the laxness starting in his neck as he prepares to surrender to his orgasm, to the bite and knot that will surely follow.

"Good boy," Hannibal praises. Will gasps, eyes wide, entire body arching suddenly. He _likes_ that, clearly. "You're so good, Will. You take me so well, and I know you'll serve me wonderfully." Will's eyes shine, his smile weak but happy. "And I'll take care of you; I'll give you everything."

"Hannibal," he breathes. His body tightens, shivers. He goes still, jaw clenching. Hannibal leans down and bites his lower lip, until his mouth opens, and Will takes his tongue. Hannibal's nails drag across Will's nape and Will _moans_. "F- _fuck_ , God, right there, please, please don't stop. I'm -."

Hannibal snarls, closing his eyes as Will trembles through another orgasm, muscles shuddering around Hannibal's cock. He presses deep into Will, dragging his hand from Will's thigh to his ass, tilting him up and rutting. The clamp of Will's muscles is an irresistible call, and Hannibal breaks the kiss with a sharp gasp, burying his face in Will's hair as he feels his knot start to swell. The harder Will shakes, the more resistance there is, a tight fist around the base of his cock daring him to prove he is an alpha worthy of fathering Will's child.

Will reaches down, spreading himself open, allowing Hannibal to push in that last little distance. Will's muscles lock around Hannibal's growing knot and hold him fast, and Hannibal wraps both arms around Will's shoulders, pinning him down as he grunts, fucks in, and starts to come.

Will sighs in relief, shaking with another aftershock, his cock twitching as he lifts his legs and hooks them high on Hannibal's back. Hannibal pulls him upright, so Hannibal can sit and Will can spread across his lap; a much more comfortable position for both of them.

Will's face is a mask of relief, of satisfaction. He rests his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder, breathing hard, hands petting down Hannibal's back as Hannibal holds him and rests against the wall, thick with padding from Will's nest.

"I…." Will swallows. "I never imagined it could feel like that."

Hannibal smiles, tilting his head so he can rub his cheek against Will's. "At the risk of sounding overconfident; be prepared for much more."

Will laughs, weak and throaty, his body clenching around Hannibal's knot and earning another load. Hannibal is large, and knows nothing will leak out while he's swollen. Already he's thinking of the best way to move Will, to reposition him to make sure he has the highest chance of getting pregnant until Hannibal recovers, and can mount him again.

Will nuzzles his neck, settling with a sigh. He kisses Hannibal's heavy pulse. "Hannibal," he says, half a question. When Hannibal hums, he feels the edge of Will's teeth. Testing. Questioning.

Hannibal smiles, and merely tilts his head away.

Will's fangs sink into his flesh as Will growls, claws in Hannibal's shoulders. He ruts down on Hannibal's knot, sparking overstimulated aftershocks through both of them. Hannibal snarls in answer, and, again, cannot resist the urge to yank Will's head back, severing the bite, tilt him up, and sink his teeth around Will's trachea in answer.

It is a mating bite. A rough one, but undeniable.

Will's blood is just as potent as his milk and his slick. Hannibal laps it up greedily, rumbling in pleasure as Will cradles his skull, letting him nurse here as well. Hannibal pulls back and bends his head, licking up the beads of milk still leaking from Will's nipples.

Will shivers, whining softly.

"Still sore?" Hannibal asks, looking up.

Will bites his lower lip, and nods.

Hannibal smiles, and drops one hand to Will's cock, the other at the divots at the small of back to encourage Will to squeeze and ride his knot, as he sucks Will's nipple into his mouth, happy to drink Will dry, as Will shudders and moans and, eventually, comes again. Until Will cannot even speak for how hoarse his cries are. Until, when Hannibal's knot goes down, Will is limp and weak, and purrs when Hannibal flattens him on his belly, lifts his hips, and slides inside him once more.

"I'm afraid, Director Chilton, I must update my arrangement with regard to my leasing of Will."

Hannibal is pleasantly surprised when Chilton merely huffs. "Another fifty and we'll call it even."

Hannibal pauses. "Very well."

"Not the first time this has happened, Doctor," Chilton says. "Have a good day."

"You as well," Hannibal says, amused and nonplussed as he hangs up the phone. Will is tending to Abigail, and Hannibal has made arrangements for Alana to come pick her up and take care of her, with plenty of milk from Will, for the next few days while Hannibal takes care of Will during his heat.

He goes back upstairs to find Will back in that armchair. His neck is bruised and bitten raw, his wrists the same from Hannibal's nails and grabbing hands. His hair is wet from his shower, but even that can't quite erase Hannibal's scent from him, nor the sweet heat scent sitting under his skin.

Will is nursing Abigail, and looks up when Hannibal approaches. "How'd it go?"

"You're a free man, Will."

Will smiles. "Not free," he purrs, as Hannibal pets his hair from his face. "Yours."

"In that respect, you have me similarly bound."

Will's smile widens, and he sighs happily, looking back down at Abigail as she nurses away. He brushes a tender thumb over her cheek. "I'm going to miss her," he whispers, admits, sheepish and soft.

Hannibal crouches beside him, a hand on Will's thigh. "Only a few days, darling," he promises. "You will never have another child taken from you again."

Will's eyes shine, bright with happy tears. He sucks in a breath and nods, smiling at Hannibal. Abigail, apparently, decides she has had enough in that moment. Hannibal takes her from Will, cradling her to his chest as Will rises and corrects his clothes.

Abigail burbles against his neck, content in the arms of her father. Will's eyes are dark when he watches them both, adoration fierce behind his iris. Hannibal smiles, and brings Will to him, kissing his forehead as Will sighs and nuzzles Hannibal's shoulder.

Hannibal breathes in. They don't have long. Thankfully, Alana is always punctual.

He cups Will's chin and kisses him. "Wait for me in your nest, darling," he says. "I will join you as soon as I can."

Will swallows, cheeks going pink. He nods, one hand fluttering vaguely over his stomach. Still empty, for now. Hannibal will see that corrected as soon as possible.

Will cups Abigail's back and kisses her soft, downy hair. Closes his eyes, and breathes her in. Then, he leaves, and Hannibal follows him out, grabbing the bag he prepared so that Alana will have everything she needs. There is another one, of Will's milk, ready to go in the kitchen.

Will stops at the threshold of his nest as Hannibal passes by him. He sucks in a breath, swallowing harshly, and Hannibal pauses, and turns. He knows, from what Will has told him, that his life has been a long series of children ripped from his arms. Not even allowed to nurse, if he was able to hold them at all.

"Will," he says gently, running his thumb over the corner of Will's eye, where tears have gathered. "You can't take care of her while you're in heat. I swear, I'll bring her back to you."

"I know," Will manages. "I know." Abigail stirs in Hannibal's arms, her sensitive nose alerted to Will's distress, just as it stings at Hannibal's. Will swallows harshly again, his eyes on her. It must be hard to reconcile; Will has lived a pattern of pregnancies, loss, and then being mounted again as soon as he's fertile. In that regard, Hannibal is no different.

He will convince Will, one day. When Abigail comes back, he will start to understand that he is a mother, now, truly. In the presence of a loving and attentive mate, he will know he's not alone. Hannibal kisses him, chaste and long, lightly touching the marks on Will's throat.

Will makes a quiet sound against his mouth, and sucks in a breath, swallowing. He looks at Abigail, and then back at Hannibal, and smiles. Though there are still tears in his eyes, Hannibal knows the smile is genuine. "Come back to me soon," he says. Hannibal isn't sure which of them he's speaking to. Perhaps both.

Hannibal smiles, and kisses his forehead again. "Go, darling," he coaxes.

Will nods, and enters his room, shutting the door behind him. Hannibal goes downstairs, and smiles when he hears Alana knocking. He takes Abigail and her bags to the door and opens it.

Alana smiles at him, taking her from him with a happy sigh. Abigail shifts, fussing at being moved so much, but blinks up at Alana with her big blue eyes – so much like Will's, Hannibal really did choose well – and settles as she recognizes Alana's scent.

"I would invite you in," Hannibal says apologetically, "but Will isn't handling the separation well. I don't want to leave him alone for too long."

Alana nods in understanding. "Give him my best," she says, shouldering the bags when Hannibal hands them over. Hannibal watches her go, making sure she straps Abigail into the car seat and stows the bags without any trouble, before he closes and locks the door.

He rushes back up to Will, finds him curled up on himself, as he was when they first met. Hannibal comes to him and Will lifts his head, sighing when Hannibal puts a hand in his hair, and crouches down to kiss him.

"I feel so empty," Will confesses, touching his chest. Hannibal knows he must be sore – Abigail ate lightly this morning.

He smiles. "May I try to soothe that emptiness, my love?"

Will eyes open, meeting Hannibal's. It's the first time Hannibal has called him that, and the shock is plain on his face. He nods, reaching for Hannibal with desperate hands, and they fall into the nest together. Hannibal touches him, milks him, bites him until the scent of sorrow fades completely, and vows with every breath, every kiss, every powerful thrust, that he will love Will, and protect him, and fill him as often as he desires.

By the time Will fully succumbs to his heat, Hannibal is sure that he's already pregnant. But that does nothing to calm Will's fever or lessen Hannibal's desire for him. He uses Will until they both ache, and cannot speak except for rough snarls, punched-out cries of pleasure, weak purrs whenever Hannibal knots him and covers Will in their nest.

Will milks his knot as Hannibal nurses from him, happy to drink the nourishment Will's body is so eager to provide. He ensures Will only cries with pleasure, with satisfaction. His heat lasts for three days, and Hannibal calls Alana back as soon as he's sure Will is capable of caring for Abigail again.

That night, they all sleep together in Hannibal's bed, Abigail swaddled in Will's arms, Hannibal wrapped around Will's back so he can hold both of them. Even when Will falls asleep, Hannibal makes no move to separate them.

He closes his eyes, buries his nose in Will's hair, and breathes in the scent of his sweet, pregnant omega, one hand settling on Will's soft stomach as he, too, surrenders to sleep.


End file.
